They were young lads, they waited for me

more than an hour in the other people’s apartment

in order to check if my face

really resembled an angel’s

on paintings by old masters

as I had written back in the days

when angels were legally outlawed

This was a completely new police

in the spirit of the new times

From my expired documents they discovered

that I was the same generation as their mothers-in-law

and that I didn’t know my age

They were real gentlemen, they didn’t have time

They said there are taxis, ma’am

I know, I said, grasping a package of humanitarian aid

and the blue stars making a circle

on the package rotate around my head

approaching outer space

Surely they see the halo too, I thought

This is some mistake, gentlemen

I haven’t been born yet

The three wise men still have to come and announce it

would you like to wait for them with me

Caspar, Melchior and that third one

what was his name again

Zagreb, 1993.

tr. W. Browne

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